Groundskeeper's luck
by Puddycat
Summary: The new groundskeeper for the Armstrongs thinks he's hit the jackpot when a beautiful girl starts talking to him. Pity it's Catherine Armstrong... Response to a challenge by Podunkus


Normally I don't do challenge fics, but my imagination started running away with me when I read this one XD He's called Joe Bloggs 'cause I felt like it; I was going to call him Dave or Bob, but they don't sound like they fit the FMA universe that well (that's my excuse anyway, and I'm sticking to it) And I chose Miss Catherine Elle Armstrong because she is the most awesome character known to man, but she never gets any attention. Such a sweet little bitch...

Anyways, in line with the challenge, Joe is a "dude", he doesn't love Winry or Riza, and doesn't know how to perform alchemy. Plus, he has the most generic name ever XD (that last one has nothing whatsoever to do with the challenge, I just felt like it)

So anyways... FMA isn't mine. Obviously. Now, on with the fic!

---

Joe Bloggs gave a heartfelt sigh as he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow; he had only been groundskeeper for the Armstrong family for a week so far, but already he was wishing he'd taken the job in the flower shop instead. Sure, the pay here was without comparison, but that girl in the flower shop... Damn...

Pulling himself back out from the daydream, Joe continued to work his way across the grass; oh, how he wished mowing the lawn was one of the skills passed down the Armstrong line for generations...

Movement near the house caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks; the Armstrong family's youngest girl had come out into the garden, and Joe couldn't take his eyes off her. She was only just in her early twenties, but then, Joe was only 24, so he thought he had a fair shot.

He was staring at her long, flowing hair shining in the bright sunlight, her soft features, her graceful movements... He had been staring at all of those right until the moment she bent over to smell some flowers – then her low-cut top demanded his gaze drop a little further down than her face.

Clearing his throat suddenly, Joe turned away and began frantically mowing the lawn for all he was worth.

_Don't think about them, don't think about them, don't think about those lovely, perfect breasts- dammit!_

"Excuse me?" a soft voice said from somewhere to his right. "Your shoulders are getting sunburnt, would you like me to rub some sun cream on there for you?"

A small whimper escaped him before he could hold it back; he coughed into his hand and apologised before answering.

"Thank you for the offer, Miss, but it really isn't causing me any trouble," Joe replied, praying to whatever gods were listening that she'd think he was being noble and insist on doing it anyway. He had his doubts, so decided to try and push his luck a little further. "Now, at least; tomorrow may be a different story..."

"Then please, allow me," she smiled, and Joe had to work hard to suppress another whimper; instead he settled for nodding dumbly and sitting down where she pointed. "I'm much too small to reach if you stand," she said shyly by way of explanation, before kneeling down in front of him and leaning forwards to reach his shoulders, getting close enough for him to rest his chin on her chest if he so wished. And lord, how he wished...

Rather disproportionate breasts encompassed his vision, making images of bras and scantily-clad Armstrong women dance through his head. He felt himself growing rather hot under the collar, not to mention other areas, so he decided to try his luck even further before she went away again. After all, he reasoned, _she_ had come to _him_ so he guessed she could be interested; he would be the luckiest man alive if she was...

Clearing his throat again, he waited until she had pulled back slightly to look at him before he spoke.

"Umm... Miss Armstrong?" he began uncertainly.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked innocently. "Your throat seems to be giving you an awful lot of trouble..."

"No, no, I'm fine, really-"

"Then call me Catherine."

"I- ...pardon?

"Please, call me Catherine, I insist."

"Okay... Catherine..." he said slowly, testing how the name sounded to him. Yes, it suited her perfectly. "Miss Catherine, you deserve me being honest, so... I think you're a lovely young lady."

"Oh... Thank you... Umm..."

"Joe."

"Joe. Thank you, Joe."

"And I think you're very beautiful."

"Thank you."

"And you have wonderful manners."

"I do try..."

"So I wondered... Would you do me the honour of allowing me to buy you a drink some time?"

"Joe... Lie on your front, please," Catherine told him, her soft voice hinting to him that it would be worth it. He did as he was told, trying to resist the urge to roll over when she straddled his back and leant forwards, gentle hands resting on the top of his back. "Joe..." she whispered in his ear.

"Y-yes, Miss Catherine?" he stammered, hardly believing his luck.

"You don't stand a chance," she told him sweetly, before raking her long fingernails across his sunburn. A decidedly un-manly screech emanated from her victim on the ground as he struggled to free himself. An abnormal strength meant her iron grip could not be broken, try as he might.

"Damn it, woman, I thought you were sweet!"

"I am sweet!" she replied indignantly. "But only if you're strong enough to look after me, and have a masculine physique that shows it. You just look like a weed."

"I do not look like a weed! And you don't have to torture me just for complimenting you!"

"You didn't compliment me. You implied that I would consider dating a weed who works on the family's garden, thus giving me a huge insult."

"You want an insult? You have serious problems, lady, and a definite psychotic streak! Let me go!"

"Apologise first," she answered in that same sickly sweet voice.

"No!"

"Apologise," she repeated, again dragging her fingers across Joe's sunburn.

"Oh dear God, stop that! I'm sorry, okay? I won't insult you again, just _stop doing that_!"

"Good little groundskeeper..."

-----

Catherine's father wandered out into the garden long after Joe had been released; his attention was caught by a small pile of white flakes.

"Has it been snowing?" he asked himself, staring up at the sky.

----

Poor Joe...

Psst... People should go read my "Rusted from the Rain" fic! I'm quite proud of it, but the only person who's given it any review love was a friend I told to review it who waved the yaoi stick over it lol (I'll give you cookies if you do...)


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